What's it like to be young, female and living in Britain?

What is life like for Britain's generation of young women? Here, nine twentysomethings - students, athletes, mothers and models - talk about living in the UK in 2008, from politics and passion to feminism and lapdancing

What's it like to be young, female and living in Britain?

What is life like for Britain's generation of young women? Here, nine twentysomethings - students, athletes, mothers and models - talk about living in the UK in 2008, from politics and passion to feminism and lapdancing

Saturday 6 December 2008 19.01 EST
First published on Saturday 6 December 2008 19.01 EST

The Olympian

Heather Fell, 25. Silver medallist in modern pentathlon

'In some ways it's harder for women athletes than it is men - in terms of getting sponsorship you have to tick the right boxes and fit certain criteria. At the Games, Katy Livingston - the other British girl who competed - and I thought: "Well, we're going to be on television, let's glam it up." We put on some fake tan and wore make-up because we thought if we look good then we'll feel better and run faster. Maybe there were a few girls in the squad who thought, "What on earth are they doing?", but I'm so glad I did. I was given four dresses to choose from for the Olympic Gold Ball and I was like: "Wow, these are Vivienne Westwood dresses, how on earth did this happen?" The media loves girls looking gorgeous in dresses - it's a shame they don't love women in sport as much.

'In some ways I'm a traditionalist - I think the man should be there to look after the woman. For me, feminism means women thinking we can do everything without needing men and I don't agree with that. I think that, in the workplace, there should be no discrimination, but when it comes to physical jobs and sports then there is a difference because we are not designed the same way. There's been such a drive in getting women more power; some of my friends have said: "Well, where are we going here, what are we actually after?" But I think it might be levelling out; we're realising that, yes, we should be paid equally where we can deliver equally, but we can't have everything. Maybe this generation is realising how good they really have it.

The inventor

'I took Design Technology for A-level because I loved the hands-on, practical stuff. We were set a task to design something useful and when I was sailing and practising 'man overboard' exercises, I realised how hard it was to retrieve someone from the water. I designed a product, managed to trademark the name - HypoHoist - and my teacher entered me in the Young Engineer for Britain competition.

'I thought I had no hope of winning but, when I did, it opened my eyes to the world of engineering. It is quite a male area but I haven't felt disadvantaged as a woman; in fact, I think it's been beneficial and I've had more opportunities because it does make you stand out. I've done a lot of work with Make Your Mark, which is a campaign to try to get more girls into engineering and science; being a young female doing quite well in the industry, I can hopefully be a bit of a role model.

'My first public speaking event was incredibly scary. It was at the Brunel Bicentenary conference in front of all the top engineers in the UK and probably only about 5 per cent of the audience was female.

'Men do think differently and I think it's always nice to have a balance between both genders, but I definitely think it's an even playing field now and I've never encountered sexism.'

The model

Dunja Knezevic, 26. Model, campaigner and co-director of KCandK with fellow model Victoria Keon-Cohen. In 2007 they established the world's first models' union

'Victoria and I decided to set up a models' union over a couple of glasses of wine one night. I was 17 when I started modelling and Victoria was about 15. We had both experienced excessive working hours, pressure to be thin, lewd behaviour, exploitation, and felt it was time to do something, to empower models. All other industries are unionised but the fashion industry feels it's above rules and regulations.

'Models in Britain now get the same representation as other performing artists at Equity. Conditions have already improved. But sensationalist TV programmes like America's Next Top Model really do nothing for our cause. All you see is the girls fighting, crying and being told off.

'I come from Bosnia where the way you look should be respectable but it's definitely not a priority. We don't have any fashion magazines and there's no modelling industry. With so many magazines, shops and constant exposure to celebrities, beauty is definitely pushed in your face here. When I have my own children, they won't read magazines - there are more productive things to do.

'I never liked the word "feminist" - for me it always meant being against men, whereas I see myself fighting for general equality. I don't think it's harder being a woman today; men have it pretty hard too. But I think one of the biggest challenges women face is trying to be superwoman. Now we can have it all, we try to do it all - go to university and get your degree, develop a career, have a family, be a good wife.'

The politician

'I got involved in politics because I felt so angry about the Iraq war. I was inspired by the passion and courage of Respect councillor Salma Yaqoob and political campaigner Lindsey German. When I was asked to stand as a councillor I thought it was a completely bizarre idea and that I would never win. Some of the men in the Respect party wanted me to stand in a ward where there was no chance of me winning. But I was selected and in 2006, to my amazement, I won. This year I left Respect for Labour - there's a lot more resources in the party and I felt I could be fairer to my constituents.

'I'm Bangladeshi and as an Asian woman I do find you are made to feel like a second-class citizen. The mentality of girls being a financial burden is still there. My dad would complain he didn't have a son, which I found very painful as a child. That became my driving force. I wanted to prove that I wasn't lesser for being female; that I was better than any son my parents might have had.

'I describe myself as a feminist, but feminism doesn't make sense to me as a separate entity. I see it as part of the wider struggle for equality, alongside class and race.

'The escalation of the porn industry and lap-dancing clubs really bothers me. I moved from Libya to London when I was about eight and seeing images of women being exploited and used as sexual commodities everywhere made me feel sick. I would walk down Tottenham Court Road as a teenager with my mates, ripping out all the prostitution fliers from the phone boxes.

'I want to see more women, especially from ethnic minorities, involved in politics. Women need to be educated and empowered to take those key positions; only then will we see change.'

The refugee

'I didn't want to leave my country and my family, but I had to flee when I was physically abused by the militia of the ruling Zanu-PF government for supporting and campaigning for the opposition. Within hours of arriving in the UK I was told my claim for asylum had been refused. They wanted me to produce evidence, but how could I? I asked them: "What is more important, the evidence or my life?"

'I was held for a week, then told to report once a month to an immigration centre while my case was reviewed. Four years later, I was told that my case had been refused and I was being sent back. All I had was my handbag. They wouldn't allow me to get anything from my home, or to contact my solicitor. I was so scared that I would be deported to Zimbabwe, where I would be imprisoned and never see my family again. Seven years later I'm still waiting on the Home Office. They say my case will be decided by 2011, but until then I cannot work or study. I am in limbo. Most of my time is spent volunteering for Women Asylum Seekers Together, a group campaigning for and empowering women asylum seekers.

'This idea that asylum seekers get free houses, cars and mobile phones is a lie. When I first claimed asylum I was given £30 a week and a shared room in a bedsit. Now I am classified as a 'failed' asylum seeker, yet the government accept that it is not safe for me to return, so I am given accommodation and £35 a week in supermarket vouchers.

'I want to pay tax, support myself and pay my way but I am not allowed. I want to work with young people and do something positive. I want young people to say: '"This is Yeukai. Be like her."'

The campaigner

Suswati Basu, 20. Student and activist

'Two years ago I was gang raped in a London park. When I told the police I was in counselling due to a history of childhood sexual abuse they made me sign a statement saying I was "too mentally incapacitated to know what consent was". I was so out of it I didn't know what I was signing. I wasn't allowed to see a solicitor or my family.

'When I later tried to change my statement, the police prosecuted me for lying. My caution was eventually overturned, but no one was convicted of the rape: the whole thing was brushed under the carpet. Thankfully that was the turning point, when I realised I had to fight back.

'My lawyer, Harriet Wistrich, is my saint and a fantastic friend who has protected me through thick and thin. It was Harriet who encouraged me to speak out about what happened to me as an ambassador for the Women and Girls Network (WGN). Of course I was scared. It is a difficult thing to say and to hear, but it's the truth.

'I'm working with WGN to set up an NHS initiative offering young people counselling with other young people who have suffered similar violence and abuse.

'I'm also president of the Women's Society at the School of Oriental and African Studies, where I study, and I'm involved with the London Feminist Network's annual 'Reclaim the Night' march. Feminism means absolute equality. I'm not interested in a chair being held out for me so I can sit down in it. No thanks. I've got arms; I'll do it myself.

'Women's rights activism is my passion. It's something I'll always want to be involved in and hopefully intertwine with my working life. I'm still in my early twenties so my boyfriend doesn't really get a look in. I would love to start a family one day, but only after my career is established. I'm scared to have a daughter, because I know what she will face as a woman, but at least I'll be able to support her and educate her.

'I would love to see the day when women can walk freely on the streets and wear what they want and not be judged. Hopefully it will be in my lifetime, but if not maybe the next generation will get something better.'

'When I had Kiya I was still a teenager. I had saggy boobs and stretch marks; I got really self-conscious. I think a lot of young mums get nervous about the way they look and think: "If I stop eating I can get to a size zero - then everything will be fine." But they should be proud: I'm proud of my body now, because it shows that I carried my children for nine months.

'A lot of my friends were pregnant when I was. It was almost fashionable and it stopped us feeling alone. The best thing about being a woman is being able to be a mum, to have that bond. But it's hard being a young mum: your stress levels aren't as tolerant as when you're older. The government could do more for us too: we need more parks and things. I can't take my kids to my local park because it's full of bloody needles.

'It's not very often I get to be "Natasha"; I'm always "Mum". It's amazing that some new mothers go straight back to work. They've got my full respect. It's good to see women do jobs that only men are supposed to do, or see a man at a cooker. I'm not sexist: I believe everybody is equal. But I'm not going to work to pay a childminder to hear my kid's first word or see their first steps.

'And yet I'd have liked a career, my own house instead of a council house, wages instead of benefits. Now I'm going to catering college, so maybe I can achieve those things. My dream is to get my kids full-time at school and have my own restaurant. Jamie and the show have changed my life.'

The nurse

'I think you have to be a certain type of person to be a nurse. And I've always been that person - it's always been there. My mother's a healthcare assistant and my grandmother was a nurse and I remember going to visit her and putting her hat on and playing with the fob watch and nurse's belt.

'The treatments that we have now are so different from what she must have experienced. And of course, it's not a man's world anymore. Not like in Florence Nightingale's time, when she struggled to do what she did. We're quite equal here as a team and I suppose I am a feminist in that I feel I'm equal to men: I know my role in my work and I know my role at home.

'I'm single with a seven-year-old son and I work full time, so juggling home life and the busy life at work is always difficult. My son has to come first, though - he's the main thing in my life, and my responsibility. But when I'm at work I give my 100 per cent and when I'm at home I give my 100 per cent. In terms of balancing them both, it's just a case of having to, really, isn't it?

'Working in a cancer unit gives you a bit of perspective, too. Like the magazine ideal of beauty - you can't live life and look that skinny and gorgeous all the time, can you? When you're dealing with young patients and their families you just think: "You have to make the most of what you've got now."'

The entrepreneur

Lamorna Trahair, 23. One of four founding directors of The League of Adventurists, an award-winning adventure travel company that raises money for charities

'In 2006 I started helping my cousin Tom with his hobby: organising the Mongol Rally, in which teams drive over 10,000 miles from London to Mongolia. When 160 teams took part we realised we could create a travel company and The League of Adventurists was born.

It's quite a masculine brand and in the early days I felt like a woman in a man's world. But now our full-time UK team has more women than men. That wasn't a conscious decision, but I think women communicate an awful lot better than men.

'I didn't go to university and my previous job was in yacht racing, another typically masculine set-up. But I've found that success in business is about proving that you can do the job, as opposed to what sex you are. There are so many exciting opportunities for female entrepreneurs in the UK. Yes, women may hold only 11 per cent of the seats on FTSE 100 boards, but I know a lot of women with their own successful small-scale companies.

'In terms of equality in business, I think Britain is streets ahead of many other countries. Here I can walk into a meeting with a CEO of a large company and he'll take me seriously, whereas in India, where I manage our rickshaw run into the Himalayas, earning any form of respect as a businesswoman is nigh on impossible. I've had meetings with suppliers where I'm the one with the money, instigating the conversation, and yet the man I'm dealing with will talk only to our male local representative. But I think challenges are there to overcome: they add to the feeling of achievement.

If someone told me I couldn't do something because I was female, that would be a green light to prove that person wrong.'